Red Strings
by QueenDromeda
Summary: four. Dudley Dursley/Gabrielle Delacour: grocery shopping. - "your sweetness is more cruel than your hurt." A collection of unrelated romantic drabbles.
1. An Unorthodoxed Tryst

Sirius wished that he had more self control. He wished that the smooth skin and lidded eyes of his lover hadn't looked so inviting. Most undoubtedly he wished that he wasn't drawn to him like a moth to a flame, like an addict to some cheap herbal fix.

The Black could wish as much as he wanted but it wouldn't change anything.

He would still end up in his father's study leaning against the heavy, wooden desk as the Dark Lord brushed his piano player fingers through his hair, thoroughly disheveling it, as they gave each other burning kisses against whatever surface of skin they could find. He would still end up begging and writhing, while pressed against the madman, despite his best efforts.

And, when it was over, they would both exit the room, Sirius's family convinced that Voldemort was preparing him to be a good little Death Eater. Because in the end there was no love or romance between them.

In the end it meant nothing, just another unorthodoxed tryst between lovers.

_fin._

0o0

Words: 173

For the Drabble Ship Daily Competition, with the ship Blood Traitors and Bloody Tyrants and the prompt "dishevelled".


	2. Under the Mistletoe

The first kiss he shared with her was unlike any other kiss he'd had.

For one it started out when he was under mistletoe, and ended with him scrambling to regain his balance against the punch table that she'd shoved him against. The second thing that was boundlessly different was that it wasn't exactly on his mouth, it was more on the right corner of his lips, and she was the only one participating. Thirdly was the fact that she purposely pushed across the room just to give him a kiss that he didn't return once seeing him trapped under the enchanted plant, with such ferocity he couldn't comprehend.

When it was over and she pulled away from sucking on his lips, her own mouth looked chapped, like she'd been doing that all night.

Instead of offering any reasonable explanation, she just blinked slowly, and said, "You should be more careful about the nargles," before skipping away, probaly to find some other bloke stuck under the devil plant.

Charlie was left in a state of utter bemusement, wishing he had a camera to replay the events that just happened. When he recovered enough to process her words, he rushed away to ask someone, _anyone_, what exactly nargles were.

_fin._

o0o

Words: 214

For the Drabble Ship Daily Competition with the ship Dragonic Eclipse and the prompt "camera".


	3. Snapshot

There were times when Remus wished he was better with a camera. He wanted, so desperately, to be able to capture his loves beauty and grace in photo; he wanted to be able to look down on old polaroids, far into the future, and smile, remembering that she was his, and he was hers.

He wanted to be able to recall, with perfect memory, what shade of blue the spidery veins of her wrist were, or what the scarred skin across her shoulder felt like against his wandering fingers. He wanted to look upon old rolls of undeveloped film, and find a recollection of how her mouth curved when she laughed, and the darkening of her porcelain blue eyes when she was angry.

Remus wanted to hoard scrapbooks filled with untainted memories that held the scent of her lilac perfume and her crystal clear voice, sharp and soft at the same time.

He wanted, more than anything, to forever hold onto the weeks he had in the company of Narcissa Black, to stay entrapped in a land of love and fast beating hearts and sweet kisses against the backdrop of the moor.

He ached with how badly he wanted all of that. And he cried with the truth that he'd never get it.

_fin._

o0o

Words: 213

For the Drabble Ship Daily Competition with the ship Beneath the Moonlight and the prompt "camera".


	4. In the Cupboard

It was among a blur of feverish skin and searing lips, that Barty was able to gasp out the one-worded order of "Stay," to the still unnamed woman in the broom cupboard they shared. His father would be ashamed of his actions, but there was a lot his father would be ashamed of if he really knew his son as well as he pretended to.

Lifting her head from his neck, the young aristocrat was eye to eye with the roughly powdered face of the newest propaganda writer the Prophet had hired. Rita, he recalled her name, was pretty in a harsh sort of way, with slanted eyes and an angular face, and he found himself wanting to kiss her again.

"You really want to do this in a cupboard?" She asked, her ultramarine lips hovering over his own.

"No," He shook his head, before tightening his hold on her lower back, "We'll go back to my place."

Rita let out a giggling laugh, moving her arms around his neck, "Lead on Mr. Crouch."

_fin._

o0o

Words: 172

Written for the Daily Drabble Ship Challenge with the ship Polyjuice and Poisonquill and the prompt "ultramarine".


	5. Grocery Shopping

"I'm not going to have this conversation right now," Dudley Dursley said, channeling the no-nonsense way he'd seen Professor's at his school present themselves. He threw an apple, and then another, into his cart, before moving farther down the aisle, towards the melons. Part of him wondered if cantaloupe was still in season, while the other focused on not being too angry.

His girlfriend struggled to keep up with him, "Dudley, please calm down."

He glared at her, "I think I deserve to be upset." Then he glared at the fruit stands that surrounded them, "Do you see cantaloupe anywhere?"

"I zink its off season."

"Of course it is!" Dudley whisper-shouted, because he was in a market and no way was knowledge of him having a fight in a _market of all places_ getting back to his mother, "This day just keeps getting better and better."

Gabrielle muttered something he couldn't catch, before sighing, "Dudley, darling, please. I am sorry."

"I don't want to hear it," he said, knowing he was being a prat, "We've been together for nearly a _year _now Gabbie, and you didn't tell me. I found out in a market of all places. What the hell?"

"I know," she looked anywhere but his face, "I know. And I am sorry; so, so sorry, Dudley."

He moved the cart another aisle down, looking for tomatoes, "Were you ever going to tell me? Or was I going to wake up one day and find your wand lying around."

"Do you want to know zee truth?" she asked, something, he assumed magic as she just happened to be a _bloody witch_, flickering around her making wisps of her hair rise up into a halo of sorts.

Dudley nodded, arms crossed, vegetables forgotten.

"I thought you knew. What is that expression you like to use; cross your heart and hope to die, no? It does not matter. You were raised with _'arry Potter_. I thought you could tell I was a witch. If anything I thought he would 'ave mentioned me or my sister."

He looked at her for a long moment, "You really did, didn't you?"

"Oui," she rubbed her forehead, "I would 'ave told you sooner if I thought you did not know. Truly."

"Well, I suppose I may have overreacted slightly," Dudley said, shifting awkwardly.

Gabrielle smiled, only slightly but beautiful nonetheless, "It is not your fault. In your place I would 'ave done zee same."

_No you wouldn't have_, he thought, _you would've given me the benefit of the doubt, because you're good and kind and all together better than I could ever dream of being_. Out loud he laughed, and it was not a nice sound, "I doubt that."

"You never know," she tapped him on the arm, reaching across the aisle to start collecting tomatoes, "If you ever get me really, really angry I might just use you as potion ingredients. A spleen for Mospus, toenails for Skelegro. Maybe I could make a cloak out of your skin."

He swallowed, half sure that she was joking in her original brand of morbidity, but not positive, "You're kidding, right?"

"Right," she blinked up at him innocently, dropping the bag of tomatoes into the cart, "I have no use for something as ceremonial as a cloak of your skin," she jabbed him in the side, giggling, "Best stick to the organs."

Dudley shook his head, "You're a menace."

She continued to giggle, pushing the cart in the direction of the salads, "I 'ave been told zat a time or two. Now 'urry up! We 'ave to be 'ome by six, your parents are coming over at eight and I must out 'ousewife your mother."

He just smiled.

_fin_.

**xxx**

Words: 615

for the Fanfiction World Adventures Competition with Mosque of Ibn Tulun and the Menagerie of Pairings Challenge with Dudley/Gabrielle.


End file.
